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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621655">to fall into</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Here_There_Be_Kinks/pseuds/Here_There_Be_Kinks'>Here_There_Be_Kinks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bratting, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Sassy Jonathan Sims, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, brat taming</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:56:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Here_There_Be_Kinks/pseuds/Here_There_Be_Kinks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"So go sit down, relax.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to relax.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Tim laughs. “You never do. Go sit down.”</p>
<p>Jon doesn’t say no; he doesn’t have to. It’s apparent in the way he holds himself, feet still glued to the floor, arms crossed in a way that his fingers are tucked under his arms. It’d be <i>pouting, </i>if it were anyone else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to fall into</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryDreams/gifts">DryDreams</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>feminine terms used for Jon's bits in this fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Jon.”</p>
<p>One of these days– <em> one </em> of these days, Tim <em> swears– </em> he’s going to get Jon to actually <em> leave </em> work when he leaves work. Just, how hard <em> was </em> it? Work was work and home was home! And Tim had no problem separating his days into work and home. Trying to. Compartmentalization. Good tactics, you know? Especially at the Institute. Especially now. Yeah, Jon didn’t do that.</p>
<p>So, no, it’s not the first time Tim’s caught Jon poring over files and folders and all these <em> cases </em> while they’re at home, but it’s getting really, really old.</p>
<p>“I–” Jon fumbles a bit, immediately trying to shove all of his paperwork into a pile. “I, er, thought you were still in the shower.”</p>
<p>He plucks one of the pieces of paper from the top of the stack, holding it out of Jon’s reach when he makes a grab for it. “I was.” Fractals. Christ, Jon’s reading about <em> The Spiral </em> when they’re supposed to be relaxing? That’s literally the <em> least </em> relaxing Entity! “The fucking Spiral? <em> Really?” </em></p>
<p>“I <em> know,” </em> Jon retorts, finally snatching the paper back. “I know, it’s not– it just happened to be what I grabbed…” He shoves it back in the file. “I mean, I would have preferred something a bit less… mentally taxing–”</p>
<p>“Oooor you don’t bring statements into my <em> house. </em> We’ve talked about this–”</p>
<p>“Yes, well–”</p>
<p>“No ‘yes, well.’”</p>
<p><em> “Someone </em> has to deal with the workload, and seeing as you drag me away from work to come here, I don’t have much <em> choice, </em> do I?” Jon retorts.</p>
<p>Tim just <em> blinks, </em> watches as Jon turns away and continues to fuss around with his stupid paperwork. Right, so he’d been a bit <em> tetchy </em> coming out from the Institute, but, okay, Tim got tetchy there, too. But, honestly, why was it <em> his </em> fault that someone had to tell Jon to go home at a normal time? If it hadn’t been Tim telling him, Martin would have, and he didn’t think he’d be <em> snapping </em> at Martin like this.</p>
<p>… then again. </p>
<p>“Jon…”</p>
<p>“I think it escapes your notice just <em> how </em> much I have to do that <em> doesn’t </em> get passed over to you–”</p>
<p>“Jon,” Tim interrupts sharply, and Jon’s hands finally still against the files. “Don’t need you to tell me how shit our job is. But you don’t get to take it out on me.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Right.”</p>
<p>“Leave the attitude at work, boss.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have <em> attitude,” </em> Jon shoots back, flashing a glare over his shoulder. And that’s… that doesn’t really help to <em> prove </em> anything, does it? “All I have is assistants with varying grasps of a proper work ethic–”</p>
<p><em> “Wow. </em> So I’m a shit assistant now. That why you wanted me from research, boss?”</p>
<p>“I wanted you from research because, if you put your mind to it, you actually <em> can </em> accomplish important things–”</p>
<p>“And,” Tim interrupts, yanking the folder away from Jon entirely, “I can accomplish things at home. So go sit down, relax.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to relax.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Tim laughs. “You never do. Go sit down.”</p>
<p>Jon doesn’t say no; he doesn’t have to. It’s apparent in the way he holds himself, feet still glued to the floor, arms crossed in a way that his fingers are tucked under his arms. It’d be <em>pouting,</em> if it were anyone else. But Jon just looks stormy and annoyed, eyes tracking back to his damn work even <em>after</em> he’d gotten flighty at Tim’s return from the shower. </p>
<p>“Jon,” Tim repeats, shoving the crap back into Jon’s bag. “Go sit down.”</p>
<p>“I don’t <em> want </em> to.”</p>
<p>“Sooo that’s how it is, then.” It’s going to actually take more than removing Jon from work, and removing work from Jon. Tim rolls his eyes, crossing the room to clear the space between them. “Right then,” he says, and has Jon up and off his feet before Jon has even a <em> half </em> chance at squawking in indignation. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>
  <em> “Tim!” </em>
</p>
<p>Jon struggles, but it’s stupid easy just to hoist him a bit higher over his shoulder and hold on tighter. And Jon’s not really struggling, anyway. Tim knows he could take a foot to the stomach if Jon <em> wasn’t </em> being careful, but that would involve Jon inevitably getting dropped on his arse, too, sooo… </p>
<p>“Hey, if you’re not gonna relax, I’m just going to have to make you.”</p>
<p>“You can’t <em> make </em> me relax,” Jon fires back, but his hands fist into the back of Tim’s shirt for support. “And you don’t have to <em> carry </em> me into bed.”</p>
<p>“I can, I will, and I am.”</p>
<p>“You’re impossible–”</p>
<p>“No, that’d be you.” And he’s still <em> wiggling. </em> Sure, it’s not a <em> real </em> struggle, he’s not really trying to get away, but that doesn’t make it less irritating, does it? “Would you stop squirming?”</p>
<p>“Yes. When you put me down.”</p>
<p>“Well, just a few more seconds– ouch, Christ.” Jon’s weight shifts too far, and his nails dig into his back. “That hurts, you know?” he gripes, and gives his arse a smack without stopping to think about it.</p>
<p>Jon finally stops wriggling, which is– something. “… sorry,” he mutters shortly, once they cross the threshold of the bedroom. “That was an accident. I was falling.”</p>
<p>“You weren’t <em> falling.” </em> Tim shifts his grip, a warning before he dumps Jon on the bed as gracefully as he can. “You know I wouldn’t let you fall. Unless it’s for me,” he jokes, and winks, and Jon rolls his eyes. “But you’ve already done that.”</p>
<p>“Somewhat remains to be seen,” Jon says, and Tim sticks out his tongue. “But, fine.” Jon scoots back, sitting in the center of the bed. “Are you happy now? No casework. Not even a statement.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, thank God. Only statement you get in here is from me.” Tim crawls onto the bed, too, leaning in to peck a quick kiss to his mouth. “‘Statement of Timothy Stoker, regarding how relaxed he’s about to make his boyfriend.’”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Because you’re too stressed.” He sits back on his knees. “An orgasm could do you good.”</p>
<p>Jon blinks like he’s parsing the words, and then starts to go a dusty shade of pink. “You didn’t mention <em> this.” </em></p>
<p>“Sorry, was I supposed to lead with ‘hey, I’m going to get you off tonight, so don’t bring your paperwork home?’”</p>
<p>“Yes. And who said I wanted to get off?”</p>
<p>“You.” Tim clutches at his knees and grins. “Yesterday.”</p>
<p>“That was <em> yesterday.” </em></p>
<p>“Are you telling me you don’t still want to get off?” Jon huffs and looks away, so Tim leans in further, and continues, “unless you got yourself off at work today?”</p>
<p>
  <em> “No!” </em>
</p>
<p>The idea of that still flusters him, <em> somehow. </em> God knows Tim brings it up regularly enough. He doesn’t <em> seriously </em> suggest it; he knows it’s too much for Jon, either sex or just getting off at work. Jon would have to be in dire straits, especially considering, well, <em> Elias. </em> But that doesn’t mean he can’t <em> joke </em> about it.</p>
<p>“No, you didn’t get off at work or no, you’re not still horny?”</p>
<p>“Why are you even <em> asking </em> me this?” Jon complains, making a motion like he’s going to shove at Tim’s shoulder or something. But Tim catches his wrist first, pulling him in the few inches between them, and kisses him before either of them can continue the conversation. (While he <em> can </em> get him off with words, he doesn’t really want to right now.) Jon <em> groans </em> in reply, but kisses him back, almost immediately, and any apprehension Tim might have had was gone again.</p>
<p>Jon’s difficult. He always has been, in just about every sense of the word, but this is okay. They’re doing fine. That <em> attitude </em> would be different if they weren’t, so Tim is thrilled.</p>
<p>“I dunno,” he says, pulling back. “I just like to torment you.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Jon replies, flat, emotionless. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”</p>
<p>“That’s a shame. Seems like something that should have been obvious for someone with supernatural powers.” Tim’s hand had found its way to Jon’s hair– it just <em> did </em> that, it just <em> happened, </em> okay? Jon with messy hair was peak entertainment– but now he pulls it back, cups it around Jon’s jaw, and then sweeps around to press his fingers against Jon’s mouth. “Open.”</p>
<p>Jon goes more red still. He’s still, for a second, and Tim can see all of the cogs working as he formulates a response. Then, he turns his head enough to be able to speak without Tim’s hand against his mouth. “I don’t know where your hands have been.”</p>
<p><em> “Well, </em> it hasn’t been on my dick,” Tim replies brightly. “Yet. C’mon, boss, I just got out of the shower!” He taps his index and middle fingers against Jon’s mouth, again. “Suck.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need to.”</p>
<p>It’s muffled enough, but Tim still gets the meaning. Actually, the meaning’s pretty damn clear, regardless. He drops his eyes from Jon’s face, and down, perversely so, until he’s staring at Jon’s groin instead. “Oh?”</p>
<p>Jon shifts. “No. I’m– quite fine. On my own.”</p>
<p><em> “Oh?” </em> Tim repeats. “Already all wet for me, huh?” He moves his hand down to cup between Jon’s legs, grinning when Jon gasps and squirms at the pressure. “I thought you <em> weren’t </em> horny.”</p>
<p>“I’m– I didn’t say that.”</p>
<p>“Definitely didn’t get off at work, then. Or,” he adds, when Jon doesn’t reply past breathing hard out his nose, “maybe you did, and you’re still all needy?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t say that, either!” Jon hisses, and grinds down, just a little, on Tim’s hand before he pulls it away.</p>
<p>“Lay down,” he laughs, and shoves Jon back in the bed. “Take those pants off before you ruin them.”</p>
<p>“What about you?” Jon’s eyes flick to Tim’s crotch, and then back up, as he works his way out of his own sweats. “Shouldn’t you–”</p>
<p>“I might have already gotten off,” Tim admits. Okay so he <em> had </em> touched his dick, but he’d washed since then! “In the shower.” He gestures vaguely towards the bathroom. <em> “Just </em> so I could focus on you.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t seem fair.”</p>
<p>“All’s fair in love and war.” Tim leans down to give him another kiss, and then settles between Jon’s legs to dispense with the trousers he’s struggling with. “Seriously, though, <em> you’re </em> going to be fucked out, so I figured I’d be nice to myself, too.”</p>
<p>“Who says I’m going to be ‘fucked out?’”</p>
<p>“Me.” He wastes no time to slide his fingers along his labia, and yep, <em> yeah, </em> Jon’s definitely already wet when he dips a fingertip inside. Jon gasps and squirms and Tim’s barely even <em> touching </em> him yet. “Oooh, yeah, you’ll definitely be fucked out. Completely spent.”</p>
<p>“Shut up.”</p>
<p>“That’s not nice.” He flicks at his clit, grinning at the way Jon inhales and twitches. <em> “I’m </em> being nice, taking care of you.” He presses the pad of his thumb there, and lets Jon press into it. “And you’re telling me to shut up?”</p>
<p>“Christ! Don’t tease me.”</p>
<p>… alright, he can be <em> kind. </em> “Fine,” he allows. “But I will if you keep that up, you know?” Still, he doesn’t now, rolling his clit between his fingers. Which pretty much seems to seal the deal on <em> ‘will Jon give me any more cheek?’ </em> but that’s fine. That’s <em> okay, </em> because Jon moans so pretty, anyway. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds ya, and all.”</p>
<p>He does surprise him, a little, then, propping up enough to be able to stretch and kiss Tim after that. Kissing’s a thing, but mostly casual, and there’s some definite <em> heat </em> behind this one. <em> Nice. </em></p>
<p>He’s content like that, a good kiss, feeling Jon jerk from the little jolts of stimulation as he fingers him, but there’s a proper way to go about this. <em> And, </em> okay, he just wants to feel Jon clench around his fingers as he comes, is that such a surprise? And as much as he hates to turn his attention away from Jon’s clit, because he is very, very smitten by it, he <em> does </em> take a very invested pleasure in the moan that Jon tries to stifle when Tim slips his fingers <em> in, </em> and starts to move them. “This is actually the filthiest place I’ve put my fingers all day,” he says, contemplative and <em> joking. </em> “Since you were wondering.”</p>
<p>Jon flashes him a glare that quickly dissolves, and Tim lets him take charge on fucking himself on his fingers. Rutting against him, so needy– but Tim doesn’t say that bit out loud. Figures Jon probably wouldn’t like it. <em> And, </em> contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t have to have a running commentary <em> all </em> the time; watching is just as good. Better. Which times up nicely with Jon pulling away from the kiss, thumping back into the blankets.</p>
<p>Yeah, also maybe contrary to popular belief, Jon is very, very hot, and Tim is very, very lucky. And no, he will not get sappy, he’s in the middle of a scene, <em> dammit– </em></p>
<p>Which is about the literal second that Jon actually hits orgasm, a rush of wetness against Tim’s fingers and then– then nothing, really. Jon sagging back into the blankets and trying to catch his breath, and Tim thinks he might be going a little lightheaded himself with the way all of his blood is rushing south, but–</p>
<p>“Nice,” he praises, warmly, and gives Jon a moment before he pulls his hand away. “That was <em> fun!” </em> He quickly wipes his hand on the blanket and wiggles Jon’s trousers back up. “You relaxed now?”</p>
<p>Jon shoots him a tiny glare, then scrubs his hands up along his face. “Shut up…”</p>
<p>“Heh.” He drops into the blankets, shoving a pillow beneath his head. “You still playing? Because you <em> know, </em> scene ends with the orgasm unless otherwise previously discussed–”</p>
<p>“I know,” Jon says.</p>
<p>“Good, good.” Tim reaches over, tucking a piece of Jon’s hair behind his ear. “You need a minute?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Cool. There’s water here, if you need it. <em> And </em> some jaffa cakes.” Which reminds him, <em> jaffa cakes. </em> He leans over to grab the box from the nightstand and tears into it.</p>
<p>Jon just grunts, shoving his arm back over his eyes. But that’s okay, too. That’s <em> usual. </em> Jon always needs a moment– or five– after sex things. It’d be bad now if he <em> didn’t. </em> He’ll get him to drink some water and have a cake in a minute, and then they’ll talk and cuddle and take it easy the rest of the night.</p>
<p>And Jon does scoot over after a few, tucking himself up against Tim with a tiny huff. Tim welcomes it, nudging him until he’s half propped on his chest, and hands him a cake.</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Jon considers it, and then takes a bite.</p>
<p>“You alright?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” It’s the default response, but Jon clarifies, “er, it was… that was a lot, actually? But I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Tim strokes his hand along his spine. “We don’t have to do it again. I mean, I’m not gonna <em> lie, </em> you being sassy on purpose is <em> actually </em> pretty hot. But not at–”</p>
<p>“Not at my expense,” Jon interrupts. “I know.” He shoves the rest of the cake in his mouth and takes the water Tim offers. “But… no, it’s not that. It’s more…” He hands the water back, and Tim trades him another jaffa cake. “… I don’t know if it was a lot <em> because </em> I had to be, er… bratty, or because… all of this came frighteningly easy.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” That’s… that’s <em> positive. </em> “No, that’s <em> good, </em> Jon,” Tim says, and he’s relieved. More than he cares to admit. “Things that are easy and comfortable– that’s the goal.”</p>
<p>“But it’s… weird–” Tim <em> hates </em> that word, especially involving anything to do with sex and romance, and he must make a face, because Jon continues, “um, it’s, no– it’s <em> embarrassing, </em> how quickly I can…”</p>
<p>“Jon…” Tim smiles. Uh huh. He knows why Jon’s struggling with this. As in control as he likes to be, this is… the opposite. “I’m flattered you trust me. But don’t be embarrassed. About <em> anything. </em> Especially not kinky things. ‘kay?”</p>
<p>Jon sighs, dropping his head back onto Tim’s chest. But he drapes his arms around him, too, so there’s that. “That’s easier said than done.”</p>
<p>“Yeahhh, I know. But still stands. I love you. A few kinks aren’t going to change that.”</p>
<p>“That– that isn’t <em> less </em> embarrassing.”</p>
<p>“What? Kinks? Or the ‘I love you?’” He’s teasing now. Yeah, he’s that terrible.</p>
<p>“Both,” Jon complains, and makes a grab for the jaffa cakes again.</p>
<p>Tim’ll let him deflect; it’s easier, now, when Jon’s still unsure about the whole thing. The fact he’d admitted it had been <em> easy </em> for him was enough for now. That he’d been comfortable enough for it to be easy. Christ, that was good.</p>
<p>“Thank you, though,” Jon murmurs, later, when he’s settled in, tucked against Tim again.</p>
<p><em> There’s nothing to thank. You don’t have to say that to me. </em> He doesn’t say that. Instead, he squeezes him in a lopsided hug, and kisses at his hair. “Welcome, boss,” he says simply in reply.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was requested some brat taming, and while I've definitely never written it, decided to give it my best go 💪 and, of course, Somft, because I always gotta</p>
<p>service top Timothy though huh</p></blockquote></div></div>
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